


Tales of the Marksman

by NegativePersonality



Category: One Piece
Genre: F/M, I'm tired, Luffy is nosy, M/M, Syrup Village, Tone Dials, Usopp is long nosy, Water 7, What a pun
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-11-05
Updated: 2019-04-07
Packaged: 2019-08-19 10:08:15
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 4,146
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16532504
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/NegativePersonality/pseuds/NegativePersonality
Summary: In which Luffy hears a story he wasn't supposed to know, and Usopp learns the truth about his place in the crew





	1. A Different Kind of Story

**Author's Note:**

  * For [IcePrincesChan](https://archiveofourown.org/users/IcePrincesChan/gifts).



“Are you done yet?” Luffy whined.

Usopp frowned. “Would it kill you to be patient?” he sighed, his eyes too focused on his sketchbook to look away.

He had just fallen back into concentration when he noticed Luffy’s hand out of the corner of his eye. His arm was stretched all the way from the deck, searching around the crow’s nest for the elusive sniper.

“Alright, alright!” Usopp snapped, edging away. “It’s under my bunk, next to the dials. I’ll be there soon so don’t mess with anything. Got it?”

He was met with silence and the sound of the captain’s footsteps disappearing below deck. Usopp sighed in irritation, but it wasn’t long before he was absorbed in his drawing again, completely oblivious to the world around him.

 

 

 

Luffy dug around at the bottom of the bunk. He’d found what he was looking for, but by now he was far more interested by all the forbidden things he’d never even seen before.

“Look at all these notebooks!” he giggled. “And sketchbooks…is this a pencil from the world government?” He tossed it aside, digging through the pile.

He bumped against a bag that had been carefully tied and heard something clatter inside. His eyes sparkled with a strong curiosity.

Without hesitating, he ripped a hole in the side of the bag. Out tumbled what appeared to be seashells, but Luffy knew better.

“Dials! I didn’t know he had this many….awesome…!” he cheered.

He started pressing all the buttons. One dial flew away from him. Another spat out a pink coloured mist. Eagerly, he went from one to the next.

“What does this one do?”

He pressed the button. At first, nothing happened. Then a voice coughed.

“Is this one of those voice recording ones?” Luffy mused.

 _“The tales of the marksman, part twelve,”_ it said.

“Marksman?” Luffy echoed. If this was one of Usopp’s stories, it seemed a bit different. Didn’t he always call himself the sniper? Marksmen use guns, not slingshots, right?

 

_When the boy was born, they learned of her sickness. But incurable was as pointless a word to her as death. If she was afraid, she never let it show._

The story continued without a pause. Luffy grew still, as though he was staring at a land far beyond the ship.

 

_It took a while to find a village with a doctor capable of treating her. The doctors’ own daughter had the same illness, though it wasn’t as severe.  But conversations and shared sake made the marksman feel he could trust him._

_And this was important, because he had a promise to fulfill. His captain allowed him time to make arrangements for her and her son so long as he promised to leave in the spring. That promise once included her – but she had turned it down long before, when she thought she was doing a good job of hiding the illness she recognized well before any of the doctors. The marksman had always been quick to tears, so she said with a smile that becoming a mother had changed her ideas about adventure anyway._

_Though the marksman never said so in words, she knew he missed the open seas; she stood by the window and watched him practice at night, when he thought she was sleeping and wouldn’t notice. There was a part of her that hated herself for holding him back…and she knew it was her fault, for no man of hers would ever dare to break a promise. In the weeks before spring, lines of worry had traced themselves into his forehead, and that had never been a trait she was attracted to._

_The night before he was supposed to leave, she had put their son to bed early. She found her marksman sitting at the table, absorbed in his thoughts._

_“How much longer until you have to go?”_

_Silence._

_“Everything is set up, even the doctor. We’re going to be fine.” She paused. “You don’t want the captain to leave you behind, do you?”_

_“No,” the marksman breathed. “I don’t.”_

_“Then what is it?”_

_He was quiet…too quiet, considering the number of empty sake bottles that littered the floor. With enough to drink, even he was good at telling the truth. Her eyes narrowed._

_“Don’t think you can hold out on me now.”_

_“I just…don’t know if I can...” Slowly, tears began to form in the corners of his eyes, as though they could continue speaking for him. “You shouldn’t…raise him alone. You, and…our…our son…”_

_“What about our son?” she challenged._

_He was quiet. “He deserves a father.”_

_The woman looked down, hands on her hips, her lips pursed in a thin line. “Are you saying you don’t trust me to raise him?”_

_“I—”_

_“That boy,” she said sharply, “will understand. And he will be okay, because he’s **my** son. So stop making excuses for yourself. You’re just being a coward, you know that? Breaking a promise…What sort of example are you trying to be?”_

_“But…if I want to be an example at all, I need to be here with—”_

_“He’ll get enough of an example from the paper if you work hard enough.”_

_“That’s not the same!”_

_“Not the same?!” she roared, her boot slapping down on the stool as she leaned in to look him in the eyes. “Is Roger forgotten because he’s dead? Or his influence gone because they killed him? Of course not! He lives in the stories of others – the ones who chase his dreams almost like he never stopped racing alongside them.” There wasn’t a hint of wavering in her eyes. “It doesn’t matter if you leave. It doesn’t even matter if I die. None of that will change who this boy is and will always be…the proud son of a pirate!!”_

_She had never spoken so honestly before, and yet…he had always known she thought this way. The marksman fought the tightness growing in his throat._

_“So…you will tell him about me, then?”_

_“Of course!”_

_“Promise?”_

_She nodded._

_He could feel a weight lift from his shoulders. She had never once broken a promise, and somehow, he knew that she never would. It was like his anchor in life. No matter how things changed, she would always stay the same – strong, willful, stubborn…_

_Irreplaceable._

_“And if he asks me why one day…what should I say?”_

_She grinned. “The Jolly Roger called, and you answered.”_

_“That’s it?”_

_“Does it need to be more?”_

_“I guess not,” he said, a feeble smile growing as he looked once more at the sleeping boy._

 

 

_They were together until dawn, holding hands and sharing enough memories to last a thousand lonely nights. She helped him pack, and when he was ready he held his son one last time._

_“My boy,” he said quietly. He meant to say more, but the tears escaped before he could._

_The woman sighed. “Are you really crying in front of him again?”_

_“I can’t help it.”_

_“You should be ashamed of yourself. Aren’t you a man?”_

_“A strong man is not made weak by tears,” he replied sternly._

_She snorted. “Tell that to your captain.”_

_He settled the boy back down in his bed. “You be good for your mama, you hear? Look after her. You’re the man of the house now, so I’m counting on you to keep her smiling while I’m gone. Whatever it takes, okay?”_

_Her face softened, and the marksman looked sheepish._

_“If you tell him stories about me…” he pleaded. “The crying. You’ll leave that part out, won’t you?”_

_“Of course not!”_

_He seemed to shrink a little, and she laughed. “I won’t raise our son with lies. He’ll know exactly who his father is, the good and the…well, we all have our shortcomings. But…” There was a twinkle in her eye. “If he’s anything like me – which I’m sure he will be – he’ll admire you anyway.”_

_The marksman nodded, biting his lip. His eyes were burning again. He didn’t want his last memories of her to include more of her sharp tongue, so he turned away. “Well, I’d…best be going.”_

_For just a moment, she rested her head against his back. “You better not cry all the way to the harbor, you hear?”_

_He laughed._

_It was quiet for a long time, just the two of them. There was a gentle warmth growing as the sun surfaced above the horizon, and it seemed so much like any ordinary day. He could feel himself wavering when her voice became suddenly serious, drawing him back._

_“Smile. I’ll see you again.”_

_It wasn’t a promise this time. He opened his mouth, and…no words came out._

_So he nodded, and she stepped away. Without a word, the marksman walked toward the dawn, not looking back. He was selfish to the end, and he knew it; but she knew it as well, and that was why she didn’t cry. It was because of him that she was far too good at telling lies._

_The Jolly Roger billowed in the distance, and he could hear the gathering voices of the crew. With her words echoing in his mind, he smiled, his steps growing lighter as the port came into view._

 

 

 

The story continued, but the sound of footsteps in the cabin pulled him back.

“Luffy.” His voice was quiet. “Didn’t I tell you not to mess with anything?”

“Usopp! I thought you said you’d be back soon?” Luffy swung around, grinning as he faced the sniper. He held the dial out so his friend could see. “That’s you, isn’t it? You should tell stories like this more often!”

Usopp’s expression was uncharacteristically calm as he moved to sit next to Luffy. “It’s harder to tell them though.”

“Why?”

“They’re…different.”

Luffy wasn’t sure what he meant by that, and he was too distracted by the dial to care. He started swinging his feet.

“You know,” he said, “It reminded me of the stories I used to hear from Yasopp when I was a kid. When he was drunk, he’d go on and on for hours. It was exhausting.”

Usopp could feel his breath catch in his chest.

“Now that I think about it,” Luffy laughed, “That must be why it feels so familiar. Your voice sounds just like his.”

On another day, Usopp thought, he would explain. He would show Luffy all the dials he hid of the stories his mother told him, and the notebooks filled with the sketches they made of his old man’s adventures. He would tell him stories that weren’t lies, stories he desperately wished were lies…stories he couldn’t share with the usual smile and boasting. He leaned against Luffy just enough, and Luffy let him.

A smile formed. Not strong, but it was there. Perhaps those stories were best told over a bottle of sake. Wasn’t he the son of a pirate, after all?

 

 

 

_The marksman was quiet, so the captain spoke first._

_“This is the last time you’ll see her?”_

_He nodded slowly._

_The captain sighed, placing a hand on his straw hat out of habit. He had a look on his face that said he didn’t really know what to do about this._

_“And you’re okay with it?”_

_There was a pause, the kind that almost answered the question on its own._

_“When the Jolly Roger calls, you have to answer.”_

_The captain’s laughter exploded. “Good man!” he cheered, slapping the marksman on the back. “She’ll be missed…but with a resolve like that, it almost seems like she never left.”_

_The marksman’s grin was bittersweet. “Almost.”_

 

 

 


	2. A Different Kind of Treasure

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello everyone! It's good to be back. 
> 
> For those who don't know, my grandmother passed away in January. She raised me my entire life, so the transition has been hard. I still don't feel like I'm entirely back to being myself but I wanted to try and post this for those of you who have waited for an update. It's a lot of snippets of ideas I had for Water 7, so I'm hoping they tie together well enough. 
> 
> IcePrincesChan, from the bottom of my heart, thank you

 

 

She was never meant to be a ghost ship.

Even now, it didn’t suit her.  She had too many corners, too many halls that felt darker than before. Since the sun disappeared below the horizon he walked with his eyes pointed stubbornly forward, determined and undeterred.

But their memories were burned into the air around him. Six pairs of footsteps followed after, eager to remind him of the days he wasn’t ready to call the past yet. He shivered and walked a little faster.

They had been considerate enough to leave most of the food. The…former cook even left a few pre-prepared leftovers (though the meat had been picked out of them). He tried to feel bitterness, obstinate pulses of pride – but he felt only the slightest traces of a ghost behind him, memories of the same cook who tried to prevent this whole ordeal less than a day ago. If he had listened, it could have been different.

But for the first time in his life, he hadn’t wanted any help.

“I guess,” he mused bitterly, “the bonds of friendship are only as strong as their usefulness. Isn’t that right, Merry?”

The ship was quiet. His stomach growled, but he had already decided not to eat anything they left for him.

The kitchen table was more comfortable than he expected it to be. The dull throb of his muscles begged for rest, so he closed his eyes, compulsively tracing the familiar knots in the grain of the wood with his finger.

But it was not long before the ghosts roused him once more from his place. The gentle scratch of a pen against paper, carefully tracing the outline of a map…the persistent tap of a mortar and pestle…the bubbling of coffee, the sound of a page turning in a book…

With irritation, he pushed away from the table, keeping his eyes pointed stubbornly forward.

The cabin was dark and damp, but he didn’t realize how unsettling this was until he had nestled himself in the hammock. He folded his arms behind his head, wincing at the pain, trying not to think of the many reasons they hurt.

It seemed strange to hear his own heartbeat. Had their gentle breathing always been so loud that it seemed quiet without it? He never thought he’d miss the sound of snoring. 

He frowned. Miss it? This was just…different. Change takes some getting used to, and that’s all this was. Without thinking, he pressed his hand to his chest.

Something touched his leg, and he sat up with a start. “Lu—”

He stopped.

Without breathing, he looked up. Water had soaked through the floorboards and was leaking into the quarters. He was shakier than he would’ve liked as he stood and climbed back up the mast.

The deck was colder than usual, but the sound of the waves was wonderfully distracting. From what the…former navigator had taught him, it didn’t look like there would be a storm tonight. He stretched, grumbling at the persistent ache settling into his bones.

Yawning, he laid some spare blankets out in a spot near the grove. His thoughts were growing fuzzy as he fought to keep his eyes open. It was easy to feel tired when the groaning of the ship mirrored the snoring of that lazy swordsman.

But just before the sleep overwhelmed him, he stirred awake with urgent thoughts of letting them know he was turning in for the night so someone else could watch the ship. He turned casually, effortlessly, and it took him a moment to remember why nobody sat on the figurehead.

He gathered his blankets and made his way up the mast.

The crow’s nest had always seemed like his and only his, and tonight was no exception. It was comforting – a place where no ghosts could hide in wait. As he settled in, his eyes pointed stubbornly forward, he was determined to sleep without any more interruptions.

But there, taped carefully to the mast in front of him, was an envelope with his name on it.

The creak of the Merry was so soothing that it felt almost as though he had been dreaming all this time. He shivered, his body curling in on itself as he fought to ignore the stinging in his eyes. He couldn’t sleep. He had to face this – as a man, as a brave warrior, he had to, and he knew it – but it was blurry. First his name, and then everything around him. She had never been wrong about storms, but for once he wished that she was.

 

 

 

It was morning when he finally peeled the envelope off the mast.

He wasn’t going to give himself time to think anymore. It wasn’t sealed, so he pulled the letter out and unfolded it carefully.

The moment his eyes met the words on the page, his breath caught in his throat. What was he expecting? Of course it was her. She was probably the only one who knew how to write, other than Robin and the doctor. Why was he so...disappointed?

 

_Day Two after leaving Orange Town_

_It should not be a stranger’s job to create a log, but I’m pretty sure the idiot captain doesn’t even know how to write his own name._

_Though we have acquired a map of the Grand Line from Buggy the Clown, we are taking a detour from our original course. The idiot captain has insisted upon it. The map he gave me looks suspiciously like it marks the location of treasure, but he won’t tell me for certain. I’ll just have to figure it out for myself._

He didn't realize that a gentle smile had grown on his face. This was definitely her log. He never knew she kept one, but it made sense. 

Usopp turned the page, but it was blank. There was only one line on the next paper.

 

_No treasure. Second copy of map made with corrections._

He flipped it over to see the worn outline of a familiar looking town. An X was carefully marked in the upper right corner.

His hands were shaking, but he didn’t need to read it to know what it was.

“Syrup...Village...?”

 

 

 

The Yagara sailed through the water, gliding smoothly away from the sidewalk.

She hadn’t wanted to remember, but there was no helping it now. Why did that coward have to go and leave his blood all over the place? She bit her lip. It was still so clear in her mind -- the memory of him lying there, the expression that nearly broke her heart...

It just wasn’t fair. 

Her grip on the Yagara’s reins tightened, and she bowed her head. Surely Luffy knew that as well. They were best friends, weren't they? He was just as stubborn, and—

“Nami.”

She froze. Behind her, she could hear the gentle rustle of the newspaper.

“What are you thinking about?”

She closed her eyes. Of course....it didn’t matter if it was fair or not.

But it still sat on the tip of her tongue. She wasn’t a fool; she had noticed the pages of the log missing, and remembered Zoro mentioning something about Luffy wanting a minute on the crow’s nest alone.

She opened her mouth, but the silence behind her was enough to close it again.

“Nothing,” she answered quietly.

 

 

 

That night, Sanji rented a hotel and encouraged them all to get some rest with a weary and doubtful smile. Luffy only laid down on the bed and stared up at the ceiling, listening to the sound of the waves that were much farther away than he wanted.

When he finally closed his eyes, he could hear echoes of laughter, of the sing-song voices and merry pirates calling for Makino to fill yet another glass of booze. Lucky Roo would whistle with a mouth full of food, Benn Beckman would rest near the door with a gun in his hand and a smile on his face, and Shanks would tell unforgettable tales with hearty and grand, sweeping gestures.

It was no wonder he remembered Yasopp so well, since he was the only one who was quiet. Luffy never realized that he only got that way when—

_“I’ve got a son!” he cried suddenly, slamming his empty glass down on the counter. Luffy cringed._

_“I know that already."_

_“His name is Usopp,” Yasopp grinned. “And he’s your age! You two would make the best of friends, I’d stake my life on it. Just like me and Shanks.”_

_“I told you, I know!”_

_“They’re my greatest treasure, him and his mother,” Yasopp sighed. “And I’ll never forget it, no matter how far I sail on the seas. In the shirt pocket next to my heart, I’ll always carry a map of the place where I left them, just to remind me.” He patted his chest._

_Luffy stared. Yasopp patted it again...then both hands, to be sure._

_“It’s gone!” he shrieked._

_“Did you forget already?” Luffy sighed. “I have it.”_

_“You...you TOOK my—”_

_“You gave it to me.”_

_“Oh." Yasopp thought for a moment. "I did, didn’t I?” He started to take another drink, then remembered his glass was empty. “You’ll keep your promise, then?”_

_“The first chance I get, I’ll see  Usopp for you. I won’t forget.” He grinned. “You’ll know we’re friends when you see him in my crew someday!”_

He turned over.

It was weird, this stirring in his chest. Like his heart was going in circles.

He shifted around in bed, and for a second his eyes met with the swordsman’s across the room. Luffy turned over again and pretended not to notice him.

 

 

 

Zoro sighed.

This whole thing was a mess. Not just with Usopp, but with Luffy as well. He’d never seen the captain so restless. It nagged at him endlessly, and he couldn’t seem to relax. What if it affected their ability to fight?

Of course, that just meant Zoro would have to work twice as hard. It shouldn’t make him nervous that the captain was distracted. He had been that way before, even if it wasn’t to this extent. Luffy wouldn’t let them down...and he frowned at the edges of doubt creeping into his thoughts.

Usopp was a different story. Leaving the crew was too much, even for a coward. Zoro never had much confidence in him...but Luffy did, so he kept his mouth shut about it. Didn’t he realize the future King of the Pirates would never let a weakling join his crew? It didn't mattered that he was Luffy's closest friend. They couldn’t cater to his insecurities forever. 

Zoro sighed again and closed his eyes. Ultimately, he knew it was his fault. Usopp never would’ve had the confidence to join if Zoro hadn’t told him to get on board.

But it doesn’t help to regret the past. He did all he could by taping that letter to the mast (though in truth he did it more for Luffy than for Usopp). If Usopp still didn't understand that being part of the crew meant letting go of his feelings and trusting the captain instead, then it's better for everyone if he goes his separate way. 

Luffy shifted, and Zoro's eyes darted over. The moonlight barely lit the room, but he could still see the long trails reflected on the captain's face. When Zoro realized what they were, he looked away.

The night was unusually still, and Zoro closed his eyes. It wasn’t until he heard the sound of Luffy snoring that he finally drifted off to sleep.

 

 

 

In the last few hours before the sunrise, Usopp made his way into town.

He had worn his cape just in case, pulled low over his eyes and billowing around to hide his bandaged arms. He'd never realized how quiet the ocean was in the morning. It made him feel that the ghosts were just a few paces behind him, ready to disrupt the silence any second. He gritted his teeth and kept his eyes pointed stubbornly forward.

This was probably a waste of time. He couldn’t even believe how ridiculous he was, hoping he was wrong, hoping it wasn't just by chance that he met and joined the crew. A stubborn pride stirred deep in his chest. There was no way Luffy had that map for any reason other than as a favour for Yasopp.

But still...

He held tight to the cape, continuing forward.

It wasn’t long before he reached the shop. An assortment of masks hung on the walls, and he took his time scanning their many expressions. He needed one that would distract from his hair, support his goggles, minimize the pressure on his nose...

Ah. This would do.

He paid at the counter and tucked the mask into his bag. This had to be his craziest idea yet. After all, Luffy might not even want him as a friend anymore, not after what happened. Usopp wasn't ready to face that yet, but...

But maybe -- just maybe -- if he fixed the Merry, and had a chance to prove his usefulness as a Sniper...

Well, there was only one way to find out.

 

 


End file.
